You chose her
by Curly Stone Heart
Summary: Sherlock leaves a letter after John's wedding


Someday I wish I could tell people how addictions feel. I wish I was able to but, apparently, I'm not human. Just a bloody machine. I sometimes want to tell how weak you feel and how you cannot control everything. But people don't understand. They cannot fathom and do not even try to. They don't until it happens to them. Neither they would listen to you and see how you struggle. That's just terrible and you don't have any reason in the world to start on drugs.

I've always liked cocaine. People normally say I'm clever and don't see why I have get on it. But people don't see how much I struggle about wanting to be normal. And only an idiot would say that normality doesn't exist because it does. Because if it doesn't, why would people get bullied? Differences scare people and so do I.

When I was high, I was able to not to be so self-centred and able to get normal conversations. I wasn't bored or anything. I simply enjoyed life. I met people. I had something people call "friend". I really enjoyed my time. I wished everything it wouldn't stop so; I went to another dealer and buy some more. I know Mycroft is suspecting something and he is going to send one of his men to do the "dirty job". But no one will make me stop. Never.

This is what I thought until he came by himself to my current flat at this time. As usual, he tried to impress me, which has never worked by the way, and made me sit. He told me if I wasn't able to contain myself about this kind of pleasure, he would have to react and do something that both don't want to. As usual, I told him very politely to leave my flat and not to interfere in my private life. He came again with his kindly words and pre made sentences about how much he cared about me and how much I deserve a decent life. As usual, I left. Not knowing what I was meant to reply.

I went to Regent's Park. Only God knows how much I love this sport in London, for no real reasons actually. I've always enjoyed looking at peasants, staring at them and trying to know why they'd come here at the exact same time than I am. It usually helps me to get all the bad thoughts I got in my mind. But not this day.

I didn't want more of it. Mycroft was right at some points. Cocaine won't lead me anywhere. That was just how drugs work. Letting you think they help you to reach a better state of mind when it doesn't at all. Yet I couldn't imagine myself without it. Not at this point of my life.

What people actually do when they are twenty-eight? Do they have a degree? A decent job? A spouse? Children maybe? I don't know and I'll probably never know. I'm not normal and I've never been, or so.

I couldn't help myself. Although I didn't care about people's opinions about me, I still couldn't affront again Mycroft's disappointing look either I could hear Mummy saying I shouldn't have been on my own that long and sociopath like me should be at home with pills all day; See how normal I am. I can add, "High functioning sociopath to my very long list of normality can't I?

How long I have sit in this park? I can see twilight now. I should probably head home or I'll have the lucky chance of meeting my dear brother one more time. I don't want to go though. I don't want to be myself anymore.

I eventually get up and start wandering around, looking sadly at people and how happy they seem. Everyone has someone wanting for him or her in the end, except I don't. People keep talking about soul mates, not that I truly believe it's real but still… Although Mycroft says caring isn't an advantage I keep wondering… Why would I have this person myself as well? Then I remember who am I.

I kept walking, not knowing where I would end up. I just wanted to empty my mind, dark thoughts popping up more and more. I knew everyone needed an ending and so do I; I felt myself ready for it.

I finally arrived at Barth's, how funny would it be to die in front of a hospital. The funniest would still be when people realise I actually have real human feelings, still probably less than normal human beings. Not me.

I found a way to reach the roof. Thinking about Mycroft who'd think I went there to get some help. Not such a huge lie tough. Anyway this small smile on my face helped me more than I thought. After five minutes walking in all these halls, I finally opened the door of the rooftop and felt the chill air from October. It's somewhat funny how I wouldn't feel it in a couple minutes.

Arriving at the border, I gave a look at the height. Well, it's official: I won't survive. Citizens of the world should prepare themselves about drinking some champagne. The wicked and horrible Sherlock won't be alive anymore.

I was ready for the big jump, the one who would make me eventually happy. I think I was already gone cause I hadn't heard the door opening neither I'd heard someone coming. He had been here for a moment and still he hasn't said a word. Deep inside I wanted Mycroft to come. I wanted my big brother to protect me. Only if I'd not had that pride. Plus you'd want to save a failure. Maybe the person behind me was only there to smoke, maybe he doesn't have a clue about my goal. This is what I thought until I heard something like a whisper asking me my name.

I kept myself silent. I have never appreciated talking to strangers. But the man didn't stop himself. He told me his name –Geoffrey Lestrade or something- and he knew what I was doing. Well what I basically had planned and failed –again. He told me it wasn't the solution and there was always one. That's such an easy thing to say don't you think? 'There is a solution' Fine and how am I supposed to find it? Let me guess: I only need a Chinese cracker with a quote written by an idiot and like a magic trick, everything will be perfect. How hilarious!

I wanted to laugh but I heard the man moving closer to me, begging me to tell him at least my name. He really seemed concerned and eventually made laugh lightly because he'd not be here if he personally knew me. He'd run away like everyone does. I am a freak. Maybe I should tell him this as a name. I have been called with that nickname for ages so I may consider it as a middle name or something, don't you think?

After a two-minutes silence, I finally tell him. I can hear him gasp and breathing deeply. He was still there. Why was he? I thought he'd have run away, realising it had been a mistake to help someone with such a name. I wanted to know badly. Why was he standing on a rooftop with a scrawny man who's known to be a psychopath –another kind nickname of mine-?

He replied something I hadn't expected at all. He told me everyone deserved a happy ending, no regards to how bad he might have been before. Then he said when someone wanted to end up his life, most of the time this person wasn't bad at all. Most of these people have in fact met the bad people that made them think they were the bad one. And he was sure I was a good man, I probably didn't know it or might haven't been told at all. But whoever I was, my death would a tragedy in anyway.

I tried my best not to cry. For the first time in my entire life, I hadn't been judged. He had not a single clue either about my addiction or the fact I'm somewhat a psychopath and still he was here. Telling me how my lost would be a tragedy. Then I couldn't help myself and started sobbing grossly.

Lestrade came and hugged me tightly. I didn't care about breathing anymore. Someone hugged me and it felt… Good? Tears were flooding onto his shirt and still he didn't care. He wanted me to be safe. To feel secured. Have you ever felt this? Maybe you have I suppose… But until I met you; it was my first and only time.

Well you've often asked me how I met Lestrade. I suppose he didn't want to tell you because it seemed too personal to him. I didn't know he was a police officer. He only told me later and we somehow kept in touch. Mycroft and him made a deal and he started working as a Consulting Detective; the only one n the world. He's been told about my drug habit and often came, first time alone, to find any trace.

I had been clean for such a long time, six years or so. Well I had because I've failed again; I didn't know how to deal with sentiments. Remember Mycroft's motto: caring isn't an advantage – he keeps flirting with Lestrade though- and he wasn't ready for such things. Please John forgive me. Maybe I shouldn't have done so many things. I know how rude and unpleasant I am so do you. But you've always been there and you told me such nice things the first time we've met. If I were told I'd ever meet someone as amazing as you are, I'd not have believed this person. Oh John… I probably should be happy for you and Mary but somehow I can't. It hurts John. Not pain like being shot. It's much worse… Have you ever felt it? Lestrade said its 'love' – you aren't the only one going for a pint with him- but if its 'love', why does it hurt? People idolize love like a religion, the nirvana, and the most perfect thing ever but why do I feel pain?

That's why I came back to cocaine John. I honestly missed feeling high. Maybe today will be the last. I hope so. I just can't cope with feelings. I just want you to live happily forever and have kids like you've always wanted –you told me once when you were drunk. So today is my real goodbye John; No magic trick this time. Maybe you'll never see this letter. Maybe you will.

With all my love I guess,

William Sherlock Scott Holmes (in cases you'd need baby names)


End file.
